Jack

So while writing the next chapter of Cold Shoulder, I felt like writing a poem, soooooo….

XXX

Three hundred years.

Alone.

Unseen.

Invisible.

Nothing.

Who is Jack Frost?

A trouble-maker?

A pest?

A mistake?

And why, Man in Moon?

Why is he a guardian too?

Frozen wastelands devoid of life.

Icicles fall down and kill like a knife.

Frozen roads of ice and sleet.

Slippery sidewalks beneath their feet.

Children shivering in their beds.

And people freezing 'till they're dead.

How can a guardian cause so much pain?

Cold.

Ice.

Freezing.

The snow falls down from the sky.

And it covers the world in a sparkling white.

Beautiful.

Yet deadly.

Another story on the news.

A frozen man, reports the crew.

He died of hypothermia and frostbite too.

This is nothing new.

Winter.

Jack Frost.

Why is this how your season goes?

How can you protect the children,

When they are dying in your winter storms?

And how can you seem so happy,

When no one can get warm.

A snow day.

A flurry.

A few inches of white.

Those are so different than

Three feet in one night.

No one can get food.

Because no one can ever leave.

When so much snow covers the streets.

And no one can stay warm.

Because no one can use their heat.

Without fuel or electricity.

Let it snow.

Let it snow.

Let it snow.

And you fly.

From pole to pole and back.

How can you be a guardian, Jack?

Invisible.

Unwanted.

Just a bringer of cold.

Blizzards and snowfall and still no one believes.

Child of winter,

Bringer of snow,

Are you just doing what you were told?

Smiling Jack,

And glowering Frost,

Two people turned to one.

Winter has just begun.

XXX